


Wishing, Hoping, Praying, Loving

by ranguvar82



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale is "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing" (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Gabriel Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Temporary Character Death, aziraphale has insomnia, crowley is a djinn, crowley is baffled by aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:54:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ranguvar82/pseuds/ranguvar82
Summary: The djinn Crowley has very little love for mortals. When you've had the sort of masters he's had, it's understandable. So when he meets his new master, a soft looking bookseller, he's expecting an easy mark that he can manipulate. He's not expecting an Utter bastard with nerves of steel. And he's certainly not expecting to fall for him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 256
Kudos: 373





	1. New Master, New Puzzle

Wishing, Hoping, Praying, Loving

Chapter One: New Master, New Puzzle

If anyone were to ask Crowley, he would say that the whole damn thing was all Solomon’s fault. There he was, content to spread some good old fashioned chaos among the mortals, and then that stupid man had to write that stupid book and recite those stupid spells and all of a sudden he goes from a Being of Infinite Power to a slave that has to do what mortals tell him. It’s galling. It’s humiliating. But never let it be said that the Djinn Crowley was not resourceful. He could find loopholes inside of loopholes, and he prided himself on being as Literal as possible with some wishes.

Want to wish for unlimited wealth? Great, you just got crushed by a giant mountain of jewels. How about a woman/man/person that will love you forever? Cool, they’re obsessed with you and will haunt you when they die. Until you die. Or hey, how about power? You’re a tyrannical despot who gets killed.

Immortality. That’s a good wish, right? How would you fancy being a statue?

Crowley relished in these sorts of wishes. It gave him a chance to get some modicum of revenge on the hated mortals. And the thing is...the thing is, if all his masters hadn’t been evil assholes maybe Crowley wouldn’t be so jaded about humans as a whole. Oh, he’s heard that there’s decent ones, but when his newest master is ordering Crowley to bring him another virgin for God knows what horrible means while he recites evil spells from a grimoire that makes even Crowley’s skin crawl, the djinn’s faith in humanity as a good thing is very small.

Take this new master. He was the nephew, or cousin, or whatever fuck relative of his old master, an Evil Asshole by the name of Tobias. Tobias had been an ugly old man with cold eyes and horrible hygiene who smelled like a dumpster. This one was, well, soft. Stupid looking.

New Stupid Master was currently gaping at Crowley, who of course had made his Dramatic Entrance when New Stupid Master had popped the cork on his bottle, no doubt thinking that old Uncle Toby had left him a fine bottle of vintage Moet. (Crowley adamantly refused to EVER be confined to a lamp. He had Standards.)

“BEHOLD, MORTAL!” Crowley roared, putting a little reverb in his voice, to give it Extra Power. “I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL DJINN! YOU HAVE SUMMONED ME AT YOUR PERIL!”

“Could you please not shout? I am not deaf.” The mortal looked...annoyed. Almost disappointed. “And can you please tell me where the wine went?”

“W...WHAT?! I AM A BLOODY FUCKING DJINN, AND YOU...”

“Please! Modulate your voice. I do not wish for the neighbors to call the police!” The man glared at him, actually fucking glared at him, and Crowley found himself experiencing something completely foreign.

He was speechless. “Ngk...um...” This mortal didn’t even have the sense to look awed at his appearance! And he had gone all out. He was wreathed in fire, eleven feet tall, with golden eyes! That should at least warrant a gasp!

“And if it’s at all possible, would you mind taking on a more...practical appearance? I’m getting a horrible crick in my neck looking up at you.”

Baffled, Crowley complied, taking on his more normal form, which meant a black robe. The mortal smiled. “Wonderful. Now, may I assume since you came out of the bottle, which has no wine, that you are a genie?”

Crowley bristled at the insult. “I AM A DJINN, MORTAL!”

“And I will not ask you again. Keep. Your. Voice. Down.” The mortal sat in a chair, feet primly crossed at the ankles. “Please, sit.” He indicated a chair across from his own. Crowley sat. “I assume there’s a difference, then?”

“OF COURSE THE..” The man somehow glared even harder, and Crowley sighed. “Yes, there’s a difference. Djinn can grant as many wishes as we please. Genies are limited to three. Anyway, as I was going to say, since you are now my Master due to my old Master...um...becoming one with the universe, I am bound by Rules to obey you and grant any wish you may have.” He snapped his fingers and a massive pile of papers appeared in front of the mortal. “Just flip to the end and sign, and we’ll be good to go.”

“What is it?”

Crowley shrugged. “Oh, just a standard contract, yada yada, nothing for you to...what are you doing?” The mortal set the contract down on a table then went into another room, coming back a few moments later with something that smelled like lavender in a bright yellow mug. He flipped to the first page of the contract.

“I am reading this contract, my dear. I do not wish to enter into a magically binding contract without knowing what I’m in for. If you’re bored, you’re welcome to read one of the books.”

Crowley, not sure if he was more baffled at being called ‘my dear’ or the fact that the man was actually reading the fucking contract, looked around. There were shelves full of books, tables piled with books. “Hey, is this a shop?”

“Yes.” The mortal flipped over a page. “Oh, dear, that won’t do.”

Crowley grinned. “I could make it successful beyond your wildest dreams. You’d have so many customers you’d be rich!”

“Customers?!” The mortal looks like Crowley’s suggested that he set himself on fire. “Why on earth would I want customers? They’d want to buy the books!”

“But...you..shop..”

“My dear, customers are far more trouble than they’re worth. Now please, do find something to do. I need quiet.”

Crowley sank into the chair, gaping at him.

Four hours later, the mortal looked up from the contract. “Right. We need to go over a few things. Clarify some others.”

Nine hours later, a thoroughly baffled Djinn watched as a Bastard of a mortal who proved to be Very Clever Indeed signed his name to the magical contract that made Crowley his servant. “Do you happen to have a name?”

“Crowley. Call me Crowley. And you are?”

The mortal beamed. “Aziraphale Fell.”

“Right. So...” Crowley grinned. “What’s your first wish?”


	2. If Wishes Were Horses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley continues to be baffled by Aziraphale, and realizes that maybe his situation isn't so bad.

Chapter Two: If Wishes Were Horses

“My first wish?” Crowley’s new master- Aziraphale- looked puzzled. “I don’t really have one, to be quite honest. I’ve got everything I could possibly want.”

Crowley snorted. He’d heard that line before, hundreds of thousands of times. Masters always liked to play the altruistic fools when they first acquired him. But Crowley knew the truth. Every mortal master was an evil asshole who would, sooner or later(and some far, far sooner) fall prey to the appeal of having a being of Great Magical Power at their disposal. Greed and cruelty always won out over altruism and compassion with the mortals. Always.

It was just a matter of finding the right angle. “I could give you knowledge beyond that of any mortal. You would be renowned world wide for your genius.”

Aziraphale giggled. “My dear, I own a bookshop. I’ve got more knowledge at my disposal than I know what to do with. If I wish to learn something, I’ll read about it. I taught myself French that way. I’d been craving crepes, and the best ones are of course in France, and I didn’t speak a lick of it beyond Bonjour, so I decided to teach myself.”

“Languages, then! Just say the words and you’ll have command of all languages!” Crowley raised his hands, ready to snap the spell into being as soon as ‘I wish’ passed Aziraphale’s lips.

“No thank you. As I said, if I want to speak a new language I’ll learn it myself. Much more rewarding that way.”

Crowley gaped at him. Stubborn bastard...”Women then! How about a beautiful woman that will worship the ground you walk on...WHAT IS SO FUCKING FUNNY?!”

Aziraphale was laughing so hard that his face was red, and he took a few deep breaths before answering. “Oh! I am sorry for laughing at you, but, well...I’m not attracted to women.”

Crowley grinned. He could work with this. “A man, then. One with the body of Adonis who will bring you pleasure beyond your...OH, WHAT NOW?!”

“Well, umm...I’m not attracted to men, either.”

Crowley gaped. “Then what the fuck are you attracted to? Mollusks?!”

Aziraphale sighed. “I’m what’s known as an aromantic asexual. I don’t experience sexual or romantic attraction to anyone. Oh, I can appreciate a beautiful woman, or indeed a handsome man, but the...spark, the whatever it is that causes sexual attraction, it’s not there.” Crowley made to snap. “And no, I do not wish to experience that either. Honestly.”

Crowley sank into the chair, burying his face in his hands. “Of all the stupid, stubborn, pig headed...what in the name of Solomon do you want?! Just make a fucking wish!” He shuddered as a memory rose to the surface. He’d had a master, three hundred years ago, that had been like this. Dithering on the wishes, hemming and hawing, playing at the noble, only to then wish for things that had made Crowley sick to grant them.

And that was the damn thing of it all, too. Crowley, for all the cruelty he had done, all the lies and manipulation, still struggled with a fucking conscience. He could be cruel, he well knew that, but his cruelty was nothing compared to his masters’. Humans and their capacity to be evil never failed to make him sick to his stomach.

So now he watched his new master, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Well, I...do have a...request.”

Requests he could work with. While not as powerful as a wish, if worded right a request could also be manipulated to his advantage. “Name it.”

Aziraphale indicated his bottle. “Well, I was rather hoping that was a Moet, so could you?”

“Right. Cellar full of Moet coming up!”

Aziraphale grabbed his hands before he could snap. Crowley gaped at him. “I did not ask for a cellar of wine. Number one, I don’t have a cellar. I simply want one bottle. And do please try to get one in a manner that won’t have the police banging at my door. Oh, and no making it so that I become so addicted to it that it’s all I ever want to consume. I want one bottle of Moet. That’s all.”

Not sure whether he was more startled at the fact that his master had touched him without hurting him or the fact that his skin was very cool and soothed the fire that was always burning inside him, Crowley snapped his fingers. “Your...request is granted. One bottle of Moet, obtained legally, and with no...effects.”

Aziraphale beamed and ran into the other room, returning with two glasses. He popped the wine cork, then poured it into the two glasses and handed one to Crowley.

Crowley blinked at it. “What do I do with this?”

Aziraphale gaped. “You...drink it?” Crowley blinked again. “Oh. Um...can’t you?”

Crowley gulped, then shook his head. “Part of...part of a djinn’s enslavement means that...I cannot experience...mortal pleasures unless my master wishes it. Most of my masters have...wished the opposite.” He swirled the wine in the glass. “So unless you wish, I won’t be able to drink.”

Aziraphale frowned. “And if I simply...request?”

Crowley looked down at his cuffs. “In this case, it must be a wish. And it is one of the few wishes that I cannot...manipulate, as it affects me.” He clenched his fists as more memories rose to the surface.

Aziraphale nodded. “Then..I wish for you to be able to...experience pleasing things.” He gasped as a red light flared around Crowley’s cuffs. “What was that?”

Crowley gasped in pain. “The wish taking affect.” He braced himself, then took a tiny sip of the wine. It was...odd tasting, but not bad. He took another. That one was better. So was the next one. Before he realized it, his glass was empty. “More.”

Shrugging, Aziraphale poured them both more.

“So then I tole ‘im that he wos a...HIC..oh, do excuse me, how rude..tole Gabriel he wos a perni...peri...right utter arsehole and to shove...a..stop sign up his bum.” Aziraphale cajoled, grinning drunkenly. Crowley, who of course could not get drunk, was watching in amusement.

“Who’s Gabriel?”

Aziraphale blinked owlishly at him. “Arsehole. He’s...bro...HIC..brother. My brother. Arsehole. Well...half arsehole. Brother. Half brother. Full arsehole. All of ‘em...ars...” Aziraphale’s glass dropped from his fingers as the bookseller slumped onto the sofa, snoring softly.

Crowley caught the glass before it hit the floor, then snapped up a blanket and laid it over his master. He stood looking down, trying to decipher the enigma that was his new master. For starters, he’d never had the urge to cover his old masters in a blanket to sleep off their drunken bouts.

Mind churning, he snapped up a silver goblet filled with a steaming liquid, then snapped again and a note appeared next to it.

‘ _Master: When you wake, drink the contents of this goblet. It will cure your hangover, without any other affects. Should you need me, simply call and I will appear._

_Crowley.’_

He flowed back into his prison, mind awhirl with confusion, and for the first time in a long, long time, hope.


	3. What Is This Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is puzzled and scared by this new feeling he is beginning to experience.

Chapter Three: What Is This Feeling

Crowley didn’t sleep. It was one of the curses of his enslavement, that he be ready and awake whenever summoned by one of his masters. So his time in his bottle prison was less rest and more ‘mind churning with questions he cannot answer.’

For example, he was currently extremely confounded by this new master. The mortal was no doubt clever, considering the way he had so neatly negotiated the contract, something that very few of his masters had bothered with. Most of them had signed the moment the words “unlimited powers at your disposal” had passed Crowley’s lips. This one had wanted to know exactly what he was in for, and Crowley felt a grudging sort of respect.

Then there was the feeling that the djinn truly found upsetting, and that was the fact that he found his new master, well, rather appealing. Crowley, being millenia old, had of course seen beauty in all its forms, male, female, and other. He had even had quite a few masters that would have been considered rather attractive by most mortal standards. But all of them had looked like a Greek god come to life.

This mortal though, was soft. He had soft blond hair, plump thighs, and dressed in a fashion that Crowley was certain was at least a hundred years past its prime. Not that Crowley, who when in a more human shape wore nothing but a black robe, had any better dress sense. Even his master’s hands were soft, with perfectly manicured nails, and he had soft, plump lips.

But it was his eyes that captivated the djinn. They were a deep blue unlike anything he’d ever seen before, and he wondered if it was possible for a djinn to be hypnotized by a mortal.

The thing that sent his mind into a spiral of questions and fear, however, had been how...kind his master had been. His first wish hadn’t been for power, or money, or knowledge, but to wish that Crowley could taste the wine with him. Even when he had been scolding Crowley, there had been a smirk on his face and no sign of cruelty in those blue eyes.

Crowley wasn’t a fool. He knew that sooner or later, the charade would drop and this soft bookseller with the blue eyes would prove to be just as ruthless and cruel as every master he had ever had. It was the Great Cosmic Joke.

“Crowley?” Dimly, he heard his master’s call and flowed out of the bottle, taking on his human shape. Master was sitting upright on the sofa, the empty goblet in one hand and Crowley’s note in the other.

“You called, Master. What is your wish?”

“My? Oh, no. I just...I wanted to say thank you. For this.” He held up the goblet. Crowley nodded. “And to tell you, um...you don’t have to call me master. I do have a name.”

Crowley shook his head, looking down at the cuffs on his wrists and aware of the one around his neck. “I cannot speak the name of my master. It is Forbidden.”

The mortal looked stricken. “Oh, that’s horrible! Wait, can I…?”

“No, Master. It is one of the few wishes that is beyond my power to grant. I am a slave, and must never forget that.” Crowley heard a strange sound and looked up, shocked to see what looked almost like tears in his master’s eyes. But that couldn’t be. Masters didn’t cry. They never cried. They rejoiced in being masters.

“That’s...that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” Crowley snorted.

“You’re my master, you aren’t sorry. They never are. They’re capricious and cruel. All mortals are.”

The mortal gently placed his hand on Crowley’s arm. “Not all of us, my dear.”

“I’ve yet to meet one that isn’t.”

“I’m not.”

Crowley jerked his arm away. “You don’t think I know that this a ruse?! You’re my Master, and every single one I’ve had has, in the end, shown their true colors. Oh, you hide behind this mask of compassion and kindness, but it’s a lie. That’s all it ever is. A lie. There is no kindness, no compassion. Mortals are crueler and more evil than I could ever be. So don’t sit there pretending that you’re different, that somehow I lucked out. I am many things, Master, but stupid is not one of them. SO STOP THE CHARADE!” Crowley’s eyes blazed with the fire of his fury and confusion, then dimmed with horror as he realized what he had just done. “Oh my...Master please forgive me I spoke without thinking I will take any punishment you deem worthy a Djinn must never speak in a cruel manner to his master I am sorry!”

He sank to his knees, trembling. This was the worst part of the enslavement. If a master wished, he could cause Crowley terrible pain. He heard a rustling sound, and went stiff as a hand fell on his shoulder. “I am ready, Master. Make the wish and..I will grant it.”

“Look at me. Please.” Shivering, Crowley looked up. “I am not going to punish you.”

Crowley gaped at him. “But, Master, I...”

“You got angry and yelled, and there’s no blame in that. I...” his master sighed. “I only met my uncle once, when I was a child, and he scared me. How long were you his…?”

“Fifty years.” Crowley whispered. “I was his slave for fifty years. His capacity for cruelty was considerable.”

“What did he…?”

“DON’T.” Crowley’s eyes blazed anew. “D.don’t ask me that. I c..can’t relive those memories. Not again.” He clenched his fists, trying to calm his flame. “In the end, I granted his last wish. Made him one with the cosmos. He...won’t hurt me again. None of them will. I made sure of that.”

His master frowned. “How?”

Crowley looked down at the floor. “I am Forbidden to take human life, so I cannot kill my masters. But that does not mean I cannot...change them. Make it so they can’t...can’t hurt me any longer. I have become...very good at manipulation.”

“Yes, I’m certain you have.” Crowley looked up again, confused. His master had a wry smile on his face. “Crowley, may I ask something?” The djinn nodded. “Why are you being so...honest with me?”

“I have no other choice, Master. I must always speak truth to my owner.” He stared at the wall. “I cannot lie. I will be punished if I lie. I am a slave, and must never forget that.”

“Oh.” His master’s voice was almost...pitying. “If I...don’t make any wishes, what happens? Do you...go to someone else?”

“No, Master. I am yours until you die or...”

“Or?”

Crowley rubbed his eyes, shocked to feel tears. “Until I...change you. That’s how it nearly always ends.”

“Surely there must be a third option.”

“There is. But it will never happen.”

The mortal grinned. “Tell me.”

Crowley rubbed his neck, the runes on the cuff sparking. “You give me my freedom.”

“Oh, well, in that case, um… I wish you free.”

Crowley screamed in pain as the cuffs ignited, sending him to the floor. He jerked and spasmed, choking. After several moments, he stilled. His master was touching him, looking distressed. “You...you really didn’t think it would be that simple, did you?” Crowley struggled to a sitting position. “In order to free me, my master has to...care for me. Beyond that of a master for his slave.”

“You mean love.”

Crowley laughed grimly. “The cosmic joke itself. The best part is...it has to be reciprocated. And you can guess how many times that’s happened.”

“Oh, Crowley...” His master placed his hand on the djinn’s. “I am so sorry.” Crowley didn’t say anything. “But I do have a solution for the ‘Master’ thing. Now, you said you’re not allowed to call me Aziraphale, correct?” A nod. “Well, what about...nicknames? Are those allowed?”

“I...I don’t know, Master. Why?”

His master beamed, and Crowley, a being made of fire, felt like he was looking into the sun. “Well, you see, I’m named after an angel, and when I was younger my mother used to call me Angel. So maybe, try calling me that.”

Crowley took a breath. “An..Angel.” His hands flew to his neck, and he gasped in joy when he realized he wasn’t choking. “Angel.”

His master laughed, clapping his hands. “Hurrah for loopholes!”

Crowley couldn’t help but smile back, a strangely warm feeling in his chest.


	4. Dreaming and Doubting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley finds something in the shop that sends him into a spiral of terror(but Aziraphale is there to comfort him), and Gabriel shows up with an offer.

Chapter Four: Dreaming and Doubting

“You know, I was planning on going to this lovely little cafe I know that makes the most divine chocolate cake. Would you care to join me?” Crowley’s master...Angel, asked, a smile on his face. Crowley didn’t look up from the floor. “Crowley?”

“How...how far away is it, Master?”

His master looked puzzled. “Umm, about two blocks away. Why?”

Crowley gulped, looking over at the Moet. “I...I cannot be more than a hundred feet away from my prison, Master. And forgive me for saying, but you would look rather foolish carting a clearly empty bottle everywhere. But I cannot stop you from leaving.”

Angel frowned. “That’s terrible. No, I think I’d rather stay here. That cafe is always so very crowded anyway, and the last time I was there the young lady behind the counter was frightfully rude. I think I might have some cake in my fridge, come to think of it. Have you ever had chocolate?”

“No, Mas..Angel.”

Angel beamed. “Well, then you’re in for a treat! Just give me a moment to pop up to my flat and I’ll bring you down some! Oh, and my dear, do please get up. You make me distinctly nervous, kneeling like that.” Crowley got to his feet, eyes still downcast. “Right. Well, umm...I will be right back. Feel free to look at some books, if you like.” Angel headed away, and Crowley looked around, wringing his hands.

When, when was it going to happen? When would Master reveal his true nature? Crowley’s mind whirled and churned, digging up memories...

“ _Master….please...please don’t make me...”_

“ _SILENCE, SLAVE! GRANT MY WISH!”_

“ _As my Master commands….”_

“ _MASTER PLEASE IT HURTS I CAN’T PLEASE MASTER!”_

“ _Did I give you permission to speak?! I WISH FOR YOUR SILENCE...!”_

There were more memories, more pain. Crowley jerked out of his mind with a gasp, looking wildly around the shop. Master still had not come downstairs, so either this ‘cake’ was taking longer to find, or Crowley hadn’t been lost in waking dreams for long. For lack of anything to do, he wandered towards a shelf full of old looking books, pulling one out at random. There was no title, so he flipped it open to the front.

Then dropped it, screaming in horror. The book fell to the floor, spine open, and Crowley scrabbled backwards, still shrieking, tripped over his own feet and went down hard.

He knew it, he knew it was a ruse, he knew it was all a lie, he he he…

“CROWLEY!”

Wild eyed and panting in horror, Crowley looked up at his master. “Sor...you’re a...sorcerer...”

Master looked very confused. “No, I’m certain I’m not.”

“Wh...why do you have th...that?” Crowley pointed a trembling finger at the book on the floor. Master bent and picked it up.

“The Key of Solomon? Because it’s a rare book. I collect rare books.”

Crowley turned away. “Please...please take it away. I can’t...not that Book, please.”

“Why?” Master sounded concerned rather than dismissive. Crowley had to take a deep breath before he could answer.

“It..it’s the book that enslaved the Djinn. The book that contains the spells that...that can truly hurt or kill us. Solomon, he...he put all the knowledge in there. It’s...a fail safe, see? In case...you need it.”

Master looked horrified. “Why would I want to hurt you?!”

“That’s what Masters do. They hurt me. They wish. They change. I remember.” Crowley scratched at his arms. “That’s the Curse of a Djinn. We don’t dream, but we remember. We cannot forget.”

“Oh, you poor creature.”

“DON’T FUCKING PRETEND TO PITY ME!”

Angel looked sad. “What will it take for you to believe I’m not pretending?”

“A miracle, and those are in short supply these days.” Crowley scoffed. Angel sighed, looking out the window, then squawked in alarm.

“Hide!” Crowley blinked. Angel hauled him to his feet and shoved him behind a bookshelf. “Stay here, and STAY. QUIET.”

Crowley watched as his master plastered on the phoniest smile the Djinn had ever seen, turning towards the other mortal that had come into the shop. This new mortal was taller than his master, with cold violet eyes and dressed in a very fashionable suit. “Gabriel. What a...pleasant surprise.” Crowley could almost feel the effort Master was making to be polite.

“Hey, little bro!” ‘Gabriel’ boomed out, his own smile wide and false as well. “Thought I’d stop by, see how you were doing.”

Crowley was pretty sure his Master’s face was about to crack. “I’m doing well, thank you. What do you want?”

Gabriel looked around the shop, and for a heart stopping instant his eyes came to rest on Crowley. But he said nothing, and turned to face Master. “You know what I want, Aziraphale. The offer still stands.”

Crowley had never seen anyone go from ‘politely nervous’ to ‘cold rage’ as quickly as his master. “I told you my answer, Gabriel. Or was ‘fuck off’ not clear enough?”

Gabriel snorted. “Oh, come on, Azi..”

“DON’T CALL ME THAT.”

“Whatever. Look, you’re sitting on a prime piece of real estate here. This block is ripe for development, and you sit here in this moldy old relic with these dusty old books..”

“THAT FATHER LEFT TO ME WHEN HE DIED, REMEMBER?”

Gabriel groaned, rubbing his face. “Yeah, you and Pops were book geeks, I know. I’ve got Michael and Uriel backing me up on this, Az. Hell, I’ll even double my offer. Enough for you to make a clean start someplace else.”

“MY NAME IS AZIRAPHALE.”

Gabriel reached into his pocket and pulled out a long object. “Look, I’ll write you a check right now. You name the amount, and I can have it in your account by Wednesday.”

“This is my HOME. I am not selling it so it can be torn down to make room for a soulless coffee shop full of pretentious bastards like you!”

“Zira..”

Master growled, actually growled, and Crowley saw Gabriel blink, then roll his eyes. “Aziraphale. I’m giving you the chance to make some real money. What was your overhead for this place last year? Five thousand?”

“ _ **That is none of your fucking business...”**_

“It can’t have been much more. I’ll give you...fifty thousand pounds. Right now.” He scribbled something, then handed a piece of paper to Crowley’s master, who tore it into pieces.

“Get the fuck out of my shop before I call the police and have you escorted out. And Gabriel, if you come in here again, I will have them here before you open your mouth.”

Gabriel looked furious. “You’re making a gigantic mistake.”

Master glared right back. “That may be, but I don’t care. Now, fuck off.”

Once Gabriel was gone, Master turned towards Crowley’s hiding spot. “You can come out now. I am sorry I had you hide, but I really did not know how to explain you to Gabriel.”

“Master, why does he want the shop? Is it in a magical location?”

Master chuckled. “In a way, yes. Gabriel works for a...company that buys old buildings, tears them down, and puts up new ones. My shop is in a very primo location, so I’m told.” He sighed, leaning against a shelf with his eyes shut. “At least this time he came himself rather than send his...people to speak with me.” Crowley blinked in confusion.

“People, master? He has slaves?”

Master sighed, opening his eyes. “No, he has thugs for hire who come here and make vague threats about the flaming ability of paper and wood. So far I’ve been able to bluff my way out, but...”

“I can make them fireproof!” Crowley blurted out. Master turned to him, agape. “Th..the books. If you wish. I could...make them so no mortal fire would burn them. The shop too.”

“And..nothing would happen to them?”

Crowley smiled. “No, Ma..Angel. They would still be the same books.”

“Then..I wish my shop and all it contains were fireproof.”

Crowley grinned. “As my Master commands.”

SNAP.


	5. A Slowly Building Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley slowly learns that he can trust Aziraphale.

Chapter Five: A Slowly Building Trust

Master was Calling him. Crowley flowed out of the bottle, making sure to keep his eyes down as he reformed. “I am here, Master. What is your Command?” Even now, two weeks into his new life, he was still finding it so difficult to believe that maybe, just maybe, the Maker of All had at last decided to show some mercy.

It wasn’t Master’s fault, he knew that. The mortal had been nothing but kind to him, talking to and treating Crowley as though he were an equal, not a worthless slave. But Crowley was so used to being kicked, beat and humiliated by Masters that pretended to be kind that he still could not fully comprehend that one might truly be good. It was funny, almost. For all the power the djinn had, he was powerless in the presence of the one who controlled him.

Master walked over and placed two fingers under Crowley’s chin, lifting his head up. “Crowley, I’ve told you, you are allowed to look at me.” Crowley gulped as gold eyes met azure eyes full of compassion and kindness. “Your eyes are so lovely. Do all Djinn have such golden eyes?”

Crowley, trying to focus on the question and not the wonderful coolness of his master’s skin, shook his head. “No, Master. Most have blood red eyes. I think maybe Maker wanted to have at least one Djinn that was different.”

Master stroked his cheek, and Crowley, without thinking, leaned into the touch. “Maker?” His voice was soft and inquisitive.

“Th..The Maker of All, Master. The One that created all things.”

Master smiled. “Oh, you mean God.”

Crowley nodded. “That is the name that mortals have assigned to Them, yes. But to Djinn, They are simply Maker. We owe our existence to Them. They are...beyond Understanding.”

Master removed his hand, and Crowley felt an aching sense of loss. He shook himself. “Did you have a wish, Master?”

Master held up his other hand. In it was a white paper bag with some writing on it. “I went out early this morning and bought some things. I do not have a wish, per se, but I would very much like it if you would try some.”

Crowley gulped. “I...yes, Master.”

Master beamed like the sun. “Wonderful! Come on, sit down.” Crowley obeyed, and Master pulled a chair in front of him, setting the white bag on the table between. “I wasn’t really sure what to get, so I thought maybe I’d get stuff that I thought you might like.” Crowley watched as he pulled a strange array of foods out of the bag. The djinn blinked. “Now, what would you like to start with?”

“I do not know, Master. Which one should I start with?”

Master frowned, then brightened. “Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” Crowley complied, and Master pressed something cool into his open palm. “You can open your eyes now, my dear.”

Crowley looked down at the strange purple fruit in his hand. “What is it, Master?”

“It’s called a plum. It has a sort of grainy texture, but it’s very sweet. Some people make jam or wine from it, but I prefer just eating it as it is.”

Crowley took a sniff of the ‘plum’. The smell wasn’t unpleasant, and reminded him almost of a perfume he had smelled once, a long time ago. “Do I remove the outer cover, Master?”

“No, love. Just take a bite. It’s okay.”

Reeling at being called ‘love’, Crowley bit into the plum. The juices flowed down his chin. Master had been right. The texture was a bit grainy, but the sweetness(with an underlying tartness) was amazing. He swallowed, smiled, and took another bite. “Master?”

“Yes, love?”

“There’s a stone in the middle.”

Master laughed. “That’s the pit, my dear. Don’t eat that part. I’ll clean it up and give it to a neighbor of mine who has plum trees. That way it won’t go to waste.”

Once Crowley had eaten the plum down to the pit(Master took it into the kitchen) and cleaned himself up, Master pulled something else out of the bag. “I remembered that you liked the cake, once we finally got ‘round to eating it, so I brought you something similar.” He handed Crowley something wrapped in waxy feeling paper. Crowley looked at him, puzzled. “Remove the paper, it’s underneath.”

Crowley unwrapped the paper, revealing a square of something that smelled like the cake had, but was a much different shape. “What is it, Master?”

“A brownie.”

Crowley scoffed. “Brownies are not food, Master. They are pixies who do mischief.” He pushed the ‘brownie’ away. Master blinked, then burst into loud laughter.

“Well, yes, they are, but not in this instance. I promise you, that is not a fairy in disguise. It is simply a mortal dessert. Here, I’ll prove it.” He picked up the brownie and broke it into two pieces. Crowley watched, appalled and enthralled, as he took a bite, moaning. “Ohh...so good. Well, go on. Don’t sit there catching flies.”

Shaking himself out of the trance that his Master’s moan had induced, Crowley took a very small bite. It was rather good. He took another. “Why do the humans call it a brownie, Master?” Crowley asked when he had finished.

Master licked chocolate off his fingers, shrugging. “I’ve no idea. I suspect it’s to do with the color.” He looked over at the djinn, shaking his head. “You are a mess, love. Chocolate all over your face.” He stood and went into the kitchen again, returning with a wet cloth. He sat next to Crowley. “Turn your head towards me?”

“You...you do not have to do that, Master. If you wish me to clean myself, I will. I am sorry for making a mess.”

Master snorted softly. “I see no reason to wish for something that I can quite easily do myself. Now, please look at me.” Crowley faced him, and Master gently rubbed the cool cloth on his face. “I’ll have to remember that you get a bit enthusiastic when it comes to brownies,” Master said, a smile on his face. “There we are.”

“Th...thank you, Master.”

“You are welcome, love. Now, what would you like to do today? Shall I tell you about the things I saw this morning?”

Crowley nodded eagerly. This was something that his master had done ever since the djinn had told him about being forced to be near his bottle prison. Master would go out sometimes, and when he returned would tell Crowley about the sights he had seen and the people he had met.

Once, in a city that no longer existed except in the djinn’s memories, he had heard an ancient crone telling stories of the gods and the mortals in a way that had captivated him. He had stayed near her for three days, listening in rapt awe as she spun tales so vividly that they seemed to come alive before his eyes. He had never again met a storyteller as gifted as her.

Until now. His Master made Crowley feel as he had all those lifetimes ago, like he was experiencing the story being told himself and not merely hearing it. It had sparked an idea in his head, one that had been building up for a week. However, Crowley wasn’t sure if Master would be willing. “Master?”

“Yes, love?”

Crowley looked down at his hands, bracing himself. “You know I...enjoy hearing your stories. Your voice is...soothing. But I was wondering if...ifyouwouldreadabooktome.”

“What was that last part?”

Crowley rubbed his wrist cuffs. “Would you read a book to me, Master?” He looked up at his Master, expecting refusal. Instead, he saw Master grin widely.

“I would be honored to read to you. Did you have a book in mind?”

Crowley shook his head. “No, Master. I thought perhaps you could choose. I..I would not want to choose wrongly and risk angering you.”

Master smiled, shaking his head. “My dear, there is no such thing as ‘choosing wrongly’ when it comes to reading. Go on and pick out a book, and I’ll read it to you.” Crowley stood and went over to a shelf, pulling out a book that had a picture of an animal on the spine.

“Will this one be satisfactory, Master?”

Master flipped it to the front. “Alice in Wonderland? Very. It’s always been one of my favorites.” Crowley sat back down, and Master opened the book and began to read, his voice gentle and soothing.

“ _Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting on the bank and having nothing to do...”_

Crowley sighed happily as his master made the strange story of a mortal child lost in a world of nonsense come alive. He shifted positions so that his head was resting on his master’s shoulder. Master smiled and placed his free hand in Crowley’s hair, running it through his curls, petting him. Crowley sighed, leaning into the cool touch, and without thinking wrapped his arms around the mortal.

“Do you want me to stop reading, love? Because I must say, having you in my arms is rather nice.” Master’s voice was soft, and Crowley shook his head.

“No, Master. Please continue.”

“ _Why is a raven like a writing desk?”_

That strange warm feeling in Crowley’s chest grew stronger.


	6. Perchance To Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley helps Aziraphale with his insomnia and comes to a shocking realization.

Chapter Six: Perchance To Dream

“Master? May I ask you something?” Crowley was sitting cross legged on the sofa in the back of the shop, his master next to him, a book in hand. It was very dark outside.

“Hmm? Oh, yes, of course.” Master said in an absent tone as he turned another page.

Crowley took a breath. “Are you...are you under a curse, Master?” Master blinked, then set the book down and turned to face the djinn.

“Why on Earth would you ask me that?” He asked, looking rather shocked. Crowley rubbed his cuffs, feeling the skin beneath chafe as he tried to answer in a way that would not make Master more upset.

“It’s just that I have noticed these past few months that you don’t really sleep that much and I know that mortals need to sleep and you don’t really, so if you are cursed you can tell me and I’ll understand and keep you company if you want me to.” The Djinn said rapidly, tugging on his hair. Master smiled.

“I’m not under a curse, Crowley. I have insomnia.”

“Is that a spell, Master?”

Master sighed. “No, it’s a...it’s something that a few mortals get, sometimes. It means that it can be very hard for me to fall asleep. I’ve been to a doctor about it, even was on medication for a while.”

Crowley looked confused. “And did the med-i-cation stop the in...in...”

“Insomnia. And yes, it did. But it also gave me terrifically vivid nightmares, so I decided I’d rather be without sleep. Anyway, it’s not all bad. Being insomniac gives me a chance to read more, and I’ve always been a night owl, even before I was diagnosed.” Master leaned his head back. “Still, there are times when I wish...”

Crowley perked up. “What, Master?”

Master sighed, glancing over at him. “I wish, just once, I could sleep through the night without relying on medicine or hot milk or hell, any number of things I’ve tried. Can you give me that, love?”

Crowley nodded rapidly. “Of course, Master. Where...would you like to sleep? Here?”

Master shook his head. “No, I’ve got a bed upstairs that would be better. But you promise I’ll be able to sleep?”

“Yes, Master.”

Master beamed and grabbed Crowley’s bottle. “Well then, upstairs we go.” Crowley followed him up the stairs to his dwelling, looking around once they arrived. It wasn’t very large. There was a small sitting room with a shabby couch, a very tiny kitchen(the one in the back of the shop was bigger) and a small room that held a bed, a chair, and a rickety dresser. “I know it’s not much.”

“It suits you, Master.” Crowley said, a smile on his face. Like the shop downstairs, every available surface was covered in books. Master smiled back, then went into the bedroom, Crowley obediently trailing behind.

“Right. Pajamas.” Master opened a dresser drawer and pulled out a pair of tartan pajamas. “Do excuse me.” He unbuttoned his coat and draped it over the chair, then stripped off his shirt, leaving his torso bare.

Crowley looked at the floor, surprised to feel a blush rise to his cheeks. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen mortals naked before, for Maker’s sake! So why was he so shy about seeing his master in nothing but his trousers?

Timidly, he glanced up, gulping. His master’s back was to him, and Crowley could see the muscles beneath the softness. His hand inched forward, an overwhelming urge to touch at the forefront of his mind. Master was so cool, his touch quenched the fire that always burned inside the djinn, and Crowley needed it, craved it like a man dying of thirst needed water. With an effort that made him gasp, he forced his hand down, looking back at the floor when Master took off his trousers and put on the pajama pants.

‘ _Maker, he’s...he’s **beautiful.** ’ _Crowley thought, looking over at the mortal, who had pulled the covers back on the bed and climbed in. _‘He’s so beautiful. Does he even know how beautiful he is?’_

“Crowley? Is everything okay?” Master’s voice broke Crowley’s reverie, and he nodded.

“Yes, Master. Everything is fine.” He walked over to the bed and climbed on, sitting cross legged. “I...I’m going to sing you to sleep, Master. The song is a very old one, and I promise it will help you sleep and you will have no bad dreams.”

Master nodded. “That sounds lovely, my dear. But may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Master. You may ask me anything.”

Master twisted the sheets in his hands. “Would you...keep me company while I sleep?”

“My bottle is right over there, Master. I will not be far.”

Master shook his head. “No, I mean...downstairs, you said you would keep me company while I was awake. I want...you to be here, when I sleep.”

Crowley was confused. “I do not understand, Master. Downstairs I would keep you company because we would both be in the waking world and you would be able to command me if you needed. If a master is sleeping, I must return to my prison until he is awake and Calls me.”

“Is that a Rule?”

Crowley blinked. “N..no, Master. It’s just how it is always done.”

Master grinned. “Well, then why not do things differently?” The djinn looked stricken. “Crowley?” Master’s voice was soft.

“Yes?”

“Please stay with me.”

The Djinn nodded, and Master beamed. “Wonderful. Come here, please.” He opened his arms, and Crowley didn’t hesitate. The djinn shifted them so that his master was resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around the mortal’s. “You’re so very warm.”

“I...I am made of fire, Master. It would be odd if I were not.”

“Beautiful.” Master whispered against Crowley’s chest, and the djinn felt his heart pounding. “I think I lucked out. I got the most beautiful of the djinn.”

“I...I am not beautiful, Master. Many of my kind are far more beautiful than I.” Master snorted, and Crowley’s heart pounded so loud his ears rang with it. “Are...may I sing to you now, Master?”

“Mmm.hmm.”

Crowley began singing, stroking his angel’s spine. The song, though he had not sung it in eons, came back to him easily. He had always prided himself on his voice. Master closed his eyes, whispering softly, “You have such a lovely voice” before settling into silence.

As the mortal’s breathing eased and he relaxed, falling into true sleep, Crowley felt that warm feeling in his chest grow to an inferno, and with a jolt, finally understood what it meant.

‘ _Oh, Maker._ _ **I love him.’**_


	7. How To Court A Mortal Bookseller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is adorkable and confused by mortals, and Gabriel reappears at the worst possible moment.

Chapter Seven: How To Court A Mortal Bookseller

Crowley was having a major dilemma. He had fallen rather hopelessly in love with his master, and had no way of knowing if Master felt the same way. Oh, he knew that Master cared about him and was kind, but that did not always translate to love. And there was a small, treacherous part of Crowley that still refused to be silenced that whispered that it was still all a ruse, even all these months later.

But the worst of it was, even if Master felt the same, they would be doomed by time and Master’s own mortality. He would grow old and die while Crowley remained as he was. It was almost funny, in a way. The creature that would live forever madly in love with a being who was on borrowed time. The mere thought of facing the ages alone without his angel was too horrible to contemplate, never mind that Crowley had gone for millenia not even aware of his existence.

Still, he could show his love somehow. But how? Crowley ran through a few scenarios in his head.

Gift him with a rare book? No, he had enough mortal connections to get those on his own.

Perhaps a bottle of fine, vintage wine? No, Master had good enough taste to acquire his own.

Jewels? Again, no. The only adornment Master wore was a small ring on his pinky finger.

Crowley growled in frustration, running his hands through his hair. All these ideas were so...mundane. He needed to give his angel something truly special, something unique.

“You look rather lost in thought.” Master opened his eyes, stretching. “Oh, lord, that was the best sleep I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”

Crowley gulped. “I...you’re welcome, Master. I am glad I could be of use.”

Master smiled and moved so that his head was resting on the Djinn’s shoulder. “Now, are you going to tell me what has you in a tizzy?”

‘ _I am trying to think of some sort of gift to give you to court you because I have fallen hopelessly in love with you’_ , Crowley thought. Out loud, he said. “I..Iwanttogiveyousomething.”

Maker, had he ever been so tongue tied? Happily, Master seemed to understand. “You gave me a night of unbroken sleep, my love. I doubt anything else would come close.”

Heart racing at the words ‘my love’, Crowley held out his hand. A small ball of flame appeared. Master sat up, staring at it. Crowley took a deep breath, then ran his other hand over the fire. The flame obeyed his will, changing from a ball to a flower, still flaming. “It...it’s called a flame flower, Master. I...want you to have it.”

“It’s beautiful, Crowley. But the books?”

Crowley grinned. “The flame obeys my will, Master. It will not burn anything unless I allow it.” He held out the flower, and Master took it, smiling.

“Thank you, Crowley.” Master leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll cherish it.”

Crowley flushed with happiness. “Y...you’re welcome, Ma..Angel.”

“Now, I assume since this is made of fire it won’t need to be watered, but it does need a vase.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and a vase appeared on the dresser. “Itwon’tburnitmasterImadesure.” He said, still beet red from being kissed.

Master climbed out of bed and placed the flower in the vase, then stepped back and smiled. “It looks perfect there, my love. What do you think?”

“Y..yes, Master.” _‘I love you.’_

Master grabbed a shirt from the dresser, sat back on the bed and pulled off his top. Crowley whimpered, reaching for him, before forcing his hands down at his sides. “Are you okay, love?”

“Yes, Master.” ‘ _I want to touch you. I want you in my arms. I want to tell you how deeply you are loved.’_

Once Master was dressed(Crowley pointedly looked at the wall to in a vain attempt to keep his blush from getting any redder) they went downstairs so Master could pretend that he was opening up the shop to customers. Crowley, of course, knew the truth by now. Master got very put out if anyone dared to try and buy a book. He was fine with browsers, but any attempts to buy were rebuffed.

Crowley’s favorite was when Master would outright tell the potential buyer that the book in their hands was worth twenty times the amount on the price tag, and “I must have mislabeled it, been meaning to fix it for ages.” Well, that and the “I’m so sorry, the cash register is broken ‘again’, and these old machines take so long to repair, you know, and I would love to sell you that book, I honestly would, but all my money is in the drawer, and it’s locked, and I don’t have a single clue where the key is, forget my own head next, you know...” And on and on(delivered in a fretful, apologetic tone and with much wringing of hands) until the person left out of sheer frustration.

A few times, some customers had spotted Crowley. Most had simply dismissed him as being just another part of the weird vibe that was AZ Fell and Co, but a few others had given him very dirty looks. The Djinn wondered if it was his attire-- he was dressed in a black robe that clung to him like a second skin and nothing else, while the glaring humans were dressed in the way that ‘Gabriel’ had been. He was trying to work up the courage to ask Master. Maybe it was his appearance. He knew his eyes often caused distress, and his hair was the same color as his flame.

“Master?”

Master looked over from a shelf he was reorganizing. “Yes, love?”

“I...sometimes, some mortals that come in here look very angry when they see me. Do they know I am a Djinn, Master? Is that why they are angry? Because they wis..want me to be theirs?”

Master sighed. “No, love. Most people don’t believe you..meaning Djinn, exist. I think I know which ones you’re talking about, and, well... I’m afraid their anger is, well, it’s my fault.”

“Your fault?!”

Master flushed. “Err, well, you do have a tendency to call me Master, even when there’s others around, and...certain...conclusions may have been leaped to.”

Crowley was very puzzled. “But you are my Master. There is no harm in calling you what you are. I..sometimes forget I can call you angel.”

Master twisted his hands together. “It’s...it’s not that, Crowley. They...umm..they’re under the impression that it’s...that it’s sexual, and well, they’re not very approving of me in the first place, and they don’t know that I’m Aro Ace, so they see me, an older gentleman with a beautiful younger man that calls me ‘Master’, and...and I really should just ban them from the store.”

Crowley blinked as he processed this. “So...the mortals believe that...you are using me for your pleasure?” Master went red and nodded, looking at the floor. “You...could, if you want. I...would not mind. I have...been used that way before.” _‘But I’ve never wanted it so desperately before.’_

Master looked up, aghast. “I would never do that!” Crowley nodded, trying not to look like his heart was breaking. “Oh, love. You don’t need to look so heartbroken.” He came forward and placed his hand on Crowley’s cheek, stroking it softly, and the djinn sighed, leaning into his touch. “If I did that, it would be taking advantage of you, and I will never do that. Besides, sex is very much overrated, if you ask me.”

Crowley nodded, eyes fixed on his angel’s lips, so soft, so plump, and oh so achingly close. “M..Master?”

“Hmm?” A thumb stroked his lip, and Crowley barely resisted the urge to moan.

“Master, I...”

Master cupped Crowley’s face in his hands. “Yes?”

“I...l...”

The bell over the door jangled, and Master groaned in frustration. “We’re closed!” He went pale with anger as ‘Gabriel’ stepped into view. “Fucking hell, you don’t take no for an answer, do you?!”

Gabriel smiled, and Crowley felt a surge of fear. “No, I don’t. I’m done playing games, Azira. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Master gasped as Gabriel pulled an odd looking object from his pocket and pointed it at him. “It’s your choice, Sunshine.”


	8. Shattered, Tattered, Torn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me, this is very sad.

Chapter Eight: Shattered, Tattered, Torn

“Are you insane?!” Master hissed, glaring at Gabriel. “Put that gun away! How dare you threaten me! Get out!”

Gabriel smirked, pointing the ‘gun’ at Master. “Oh, I’m far past the point of mere threats, Zira. I’m making promises now. See, the value of this building? It’s ten times what I thought, due to its location. So unless you want me to stain that dusty old coat of yours, you will agree to my terms.”

“Master said to leave!” Crowley glided forward, eyes blazing gold. “You leave, or I will hurt you!”

Gabriel stared at him, then at Master. “Wow. Damn, I knew you were a freak, little brother, but this really takes the cake. What site did you get him from?” He shook his head. “I’m almost impressed. Tell me, does he just lie back and let you fuck him, or is he active? You know...maybe there doesn’t have to be any violence. Maybe we could, I dunno, reach a deal.” Crowley snarled as Gabriel leered at him.

“Master is the only one allowed to touch me. You are not Master!” Dimly, he was aware that his grasp on English was becoming tenuous, but in his rage and need to Protect, he dismissed it. “Last warning. You leave!”

“Yeah, I don’t think so, freak. Me and your ‘Master’ are going to have a nice long chat. Butt out.” Crowley surged forward, hands clenched into claws, and he felt his flame aching to come to the surface.

A cool hand on his arm stopped him. He looked over at Master. “I’ll be alright, love. Let me sort this out, okay?” Crowley nodded, then glided back towards a shelf, glaring daggers at Gabriel.

“Got him trained real good, don’t you? He ain’t bad looking, I’ll give you that. How old is he? 20? 21?” Gabriel asked, raking his gaze up and down Crowley. The Djinn snarled again. “Feisty, too.”

“I have no wish to discuss this with you, Gabriel. I am calling the police.” Master headed towards the front counter where an old phone sat, Crowley trailing behind, hidden by the shelves. “I think I have enough to charge you with assault and harassment.”

He picked up the handset, and Gabriel stepped forward, ripped it out of his hands, then ripped the cord out of the wall. “I don’t think so, Sunshine. You aren’t getting the cops involved, or that freak sex toy of yours.” Master stepped forward, face red with anger, and Gabriel pointed the ‘gun’ at his chest. “Don’t even think about it. And tell that sex toy of yours that I’m not dumb. I know he’s back there.”

“Crowley is not a sex toy!”

“Crowley?” Gabriel snorted. “Some name. Look, Az, just agree to take the money, and we’ll be good. Okay?”

“YOU ARE POINTING A GUN AT ME! WHAT PART OF THAT IS FUCKING GOOD?!”

Gabriel looked almost contrite. “You know, I really didn’t want it to come to this. You should have made the deal with me from the start. It would have made things so much easier. Now I will have to tell Michael and Uriel that when I came here today to try and make you see reason, I found the place ransacked and you on the floor, dead from a gunshot wound. Robbery gone wrong, you see. Though I wasn’t expecting your freaky fuck buddy. Oh well, two birds, one stone.”

Several things happened at once. Gabriel pulled back something on the ‘gun’, there was a loud banging sound, and Crowley surged forward, eyes blazing fire and fully aflame. He barreled into Gabriel, sending the gun flying and tackled him to the floor, snarling in rage. “LEAVE MASTER ALONE!” The Djinn roared, lifting the mortal up by the throat with one hand. Gabriel garbled and choked, clawing at his arm. “LEAVE!MASTER!ALONE!” The Djinn shook him like a rag doll, then threw him across the shop, shattering bookshelves. Gabriel went down, out cold, and Crowley grinned, panting. “Master did you see I threw him across the room I haven’t used my strength for so long!” There was no answer. “Master?”

“C..Crowley?” Master’s voice was quiet, and Crowley turned. He was sitting on the floor, against the counter, hand pressed to his coat, and there was something red between his fingers. “C..Crowley..I..”

“Master?” Crowley ran to him, dropping to his knees. “You...you are bleeding.” Master took a harsh breath.

“Th...that’s what tends to...happen...when...mortal...gets...shot.” He removed his hand, and Crowley gasped at the crimson stain on his coat. “Kept...coat...perfect for...twenty...years. Christ, it hurts.”

Crowley began sobbing as he realized what was happening. “Master, no. No don’t die. I...make a wish, Master! You are still breathing, make a wish! I can heal you, but you have to make a wish! PLEASE!” He buried his face in Master’s shoulder. “Please. I...I love you.”

Master inhaled. “Oh, good. I had hoped it was mutual. Crowley? I’m ready to make my wish.”

Crowley nodded, tears pouring down his face. “What does my Master wish?”

“I wish...for...your freedom.”

The cuffs ignited, and Crowley felt a burning, freezing, white hot pain, then nothing. He gasped, hand flying to his neck, expecting to feel the cuff...and his hands touched bare skin. Wide eyed, he looked at his wrists, which were also bare. Lying at his feet, blackened and burnt, were the cuffs that he had worn for time immemorial. “I...I’m free. Master, it worked! I’m free!” Silence. “Master?”

Crowley reached out and touched Master’s arm. It was cold, colder than Crowley could ever recall, and he was...he was so still. “Aziraphale?” Crowley whispered, voice cracking. “No...”

When Crowley gave Aziraphale his flower, he told him that it was tied to his Will. What the Djinn had forgotten to say was that it was also tied to his emotions. So long as Crowley remained happy, the flower would be nothing more than a flower that happened to be made of fire.

Crowley gathered Aziraphale in his arms, and as he screamed his rage and grief to the Heavens, a flower grew into an inferno.


	9. O Death, Spare Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley makes a Deal.

Chapter Nine: O Death, Spare Him

The bookstore was in flames. Crowley was dimly aware of voices from outside, but the Djinn ignored them. He was also vaguely aware that the flames were because of him, and if he could only focus, the fire would go out and he could restore the shop to be as good as new.

But he couldn’t focus on anything except the mortal, limp and cold, in his arms. Couldn’t think beyond the fact that he’d lost Aziraphale before he’d even had the chance to show him how much he was loved. He stared into the closed eyes and stroked his cheek. Without realizing it, he began singing a Djinn song of loss and mourning, his voice echoing and reechoing through the burning shop. _‘Stupid Crowley. Made shop fireproof, but not Djinn proof. Stupid.’_

There was a groaning sound from where Gabriel had been flung, and Crowley’s head snapped towards the source, his eyes fire red with rage. “Uhh...HELP! HELP! I’M IN HERE! HEL...”

Crowley focused, and a finger of flame surged towards Gabriel, wrapping itself around his throat and yanking him forward. “You killed him.” The Djinn growled, and Gabriel goggled at him. Crowley lifted up Aziraphale and kissed his forehead, then looked back up at Gabriel, willing his flame to hold but not burn. “He was the best of all of you. He was kind, and compassionate, and YOU KILLED HIM!” Crowley roared, and his flame flared in response. Gabriel screeched in horror.

“Pl...please don’t kill me!”

Crowley snarled. “You have no right to plead for your life, MORTAL. YOU KILLED THE ONE I LOVE!” Crowley lifted his hand, squeezing it into a fist. Gabriel gagged as the flame around his neck tightened into a noose of fire. _**“BURN.”**_

Gabriel opened his mouth in a scream, and Crowley sent his flame straight down his throat.

The body crashed to the floor, and Crowley felt a vindictive sense of pride. He knew that he had just violated a major Rule, but he couldn’t find it in himself to, as Aziraphale sometimes put it, ‘give a flying fuck.’ He was free, after all. Free and...and…

And without his reason for wanting to exist. It didn’t matter if he killed a hundred thousand Gabriels, it wouldn’t bring his angel back. His magic was considerable, but he could not bring back the dead. There was only one Being in the Cosmos that could.

**IT IS TIME TO LET HIM GO, LITTLE DJINN.** The voice sounded like it came from the deepest parts of space and beyond Time. It belonged to a Being that was Beyond any Power. The skeletal face showed nothing beyond the grin It always wore. **I WILL TAKE HIM NOW.**

“No.” Crowley clutched Aziraphale closer. “Can’t have him. Mine.”

**HE IS DEAD, LITTLE DJINN. HE MUST COME WITH ME. I HAVE BEEN CALLED.**

“ _ **Mine!”**_ Crowley screamed, sending a jet of flame at Death. The Entity didn’t move, and the flame went out. _**“YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM!”**_

**IT IS NOT A QUESTION OF CAN’T. IT IS A QUESTION OF MUST. YOU KNOW THE LAW, LITTLE DJINN. I CANNOT LEAVE EMPTY HANDED.**

“No, please, not him. Mine. Can’t have him. Mine.” Crowley sobbed. “Make deal! Make trade!”

**AND WHAT WOULD YOU TRADE?** Death sounded almost intrigued.

“Me. I go. Angel stays. Lives.” Crowley nodded. “Life for life.”

**YOU UNDERSTAND, IF I MAKE THIS DEAL, I GIVE UP MY CLAIM ON THE MORTAL ALTOGETHER?**

Crowley looked into the eye sockets. “I understand. You take life, and give An..Aziraphale back his.” He pressed a kiss to his angel’s cold lips. “Forgive me, my love, and remember me with fondness.” He stood and stared at Death. “I’m ready.”

**SO BE IT. A LIFE...FOR A LIFE**. There was a sound very much like skeletal fingers snapping, and Crowley’s world went white. He closed his eyes, ready to face Eternity.

When he opened them, he was shocked to discover that not only was he still in the bookstore, but that it was intact, and that rather than Aziraphale lying on the floor, cold and dead, he was standing at one of the shelves, staring at the books. Gulping, Crowley looked down at his wrists. Bare. He felt his neck. No cuffs. What was going on? And where was Gabriel’s body?

“A..Aziraphale?” The mortal spun around, his own eyes as wide as Crowley’s.

“C..Crowley? I...I was...shot...I...think I was...dead.” The Djinn nodded. “How?”

“M..made a trade. Death took another. Was...supposed to be me.” Crowley said, awestruck. “But I live, so...who?” They stared at each other, then both shouted at the same time. “Gabriel!”

At the same time, the shop’s phone began ringing. Aziraphale walked over on very shaky legs and picked it up. “AZ Fell and Co. Michael, hello.”

There was a long pause as the person on the other end spoke. Aziraphale gasped. “No, I hadn’t heard! That’s terrible! Yes, thank you for telling me, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told Gabriel. My shop is not for sale.” He hung up, then stared at the counter for so long that Crowley began to get worried.

“M..Aziraphale? What is wrong?”

“That was my sister Michael. Apparently Gabriel was coming back from a business dinner when he lost control of his car and went headfirst into a concrete embankment. The car burst into flames, and he was burnt to death. From the inside out.”

Crowley came forward and gathered Aziraphale into his arms. “He killed you. I got revenge. But your last wish worked! I am free!” He held up his hands, and Aziraphale beamed.

“So, does that mean?”

“Yes. Means I love you.”

“Oh, my beautiful Djinn. I love you too.” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley’s robe and yanked him into a mind blowing, heart stopping kiss. The Djinn melted into it, moaning in happiness.

“Aziraphale...”

“Might...have to revise my orientation to Demiromantic Asexual,” the shop owner said, grinning. “That or I’m simply...Djinnsexual.”

Crowley giggled. “No, not Djinnsexual. Crowleysexual. Love me.” Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair.

“Forever, my love.”

Crowley nodded. “Have forever! You live always! I made the deal, and Death won’t take you.”

Aziraphale blinked at him, mouth agape. “Crowley, are you telling me that I’m immortal?” The Djinn grinned, nodding. “I...I won’t die?”

“Not die, not age! Stay! We’ll be together always! I take you everywhere, anywhere. Spend all time loving you.” He gulped. “Is...is not what you want?”

Aziraphale sighed. “It’s going to take a lot of getting used to, my love. But do you promise that you’ll be with me?” Crowley nodded. “Then I guess I can face the ages, if you are by my side.”

“My love, my master, my angel, there is no place I would rather be.”


	10. With A Thousand Sweet Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kisses, plans, and happiness.

Chapter Ten: With A Thousand Sweet Kisses

“Ooh, Mozambique! I’ve always wanted to go there! Can we go there, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked eagerly, turning towards the grinning Djinn. Crowley laughed.

“Angel, we can go anywhere you want.” He leaned over and kissed his love deeply, running his hands down Aziraphale’s bare chest. “I would take you to the farthest star and to the edge of the universe if you wished it, Master.”

Aziraphale stroked his bare arm. “My beautiful Djinn.” The bookseller rolled Crowley onto his back, kissing a trail down his bared chest. “So exquisite, my love. So perfect.” Crowley keened in pleasure, fingers digging into the cool sheets of Aziraphale’s bed.

“M..Master...I love you...” The Djinn moaned, eyes closed in rapture. His mind, hazy with love, went back to a few hours before. He and Aziraphale(and though he was beyond joyful that he could say his name, he would always be Crowley’s Master. His love.) had been downstairs on the sofa kissing, slow, soft, sweet kisses that set off fireworks in the Djinn’s brain. Aziraphale had been making soft whimpering sounds, and he had tasted of sunlight and strawberries, and the feeling of his cool skin pressed against Crowley’s fire had sent the Djinn’s head spinning.

Crowley still wasn’t quite sure who had made the suggestion to move upstairs, but he didn’t really care. Not when Aziraphale had smiled at him in the most wickedly decadent way Crowley had ever seen, not when he had Commanded him to remove his robe and get on the bed. Whining, Crowley had obeyed, sitting up on his elbows as he watched Aziraphale strip off his own clothes. Maker, but his Master was gorgeous. And now he could spend Eternity worshiping him. “Master...” Crowley whimpered, reaching for him, and Aziraphale climbed into bed, settling himself over his Djinn.

“Crowley...” Aziraphale moaned his name, then captured his lips in a kiss. “Oh, my love.” He ran his hands down Crowley’s naked body, tracing patterns with his nails and stroking the fiery flesh. “So perfect. My Djinn. My beautiful Crowley.” Aziraphale slid his hands between Crowley’s legs, then gasped in delight. “Oh...my. Well, that’s certainly...impressive.”

Crowley blushed. “I...I was not sure which...mortal part you preferred, Master. I can also have female parts, if that pleases you.” Crowley hissed as Aziraphale stroked him.

“Hmm...sounds like fun. But for now, I think I’d like to stick with this rather lovely cock you have. Now, you remember me saying that I’m not a big fan of sex, right?”

At the moment, Crowley was having trouble remembering his own name, but he nodded nonetheless. “Yes, Master,” he squeaked when Aziraphale did something with his hands that made him shiver.

Aziraphale nipped Crowley’s inner thigh. “And you know one advantage of owning a bookstore?” The Djinn could only whimper. Aziraphale chuckled and pressed his tongue where his lips had been. “I am...very, very well read, and I don’t...discriminate. I have quite a few volumes of...erotica. And as you know, I remember everything I’ve read, and well, there’s so many ways to give and receive pleasure that don’t involve..penetration. Would you like me to show you?”

“Please...” Crowley begged. Aziraphale chuckled.

“As my Djinn wishes.”

Hours later, when Crowley had been thoroughly debauched, his Master had rolled onto his back and spoken two words. “Your turn.” With a growl of desire, Crowley pounced. He had, of course, had much experience with pleasuring his masters(and other mortals) but it had never been like this. (For starters, he had never desired it as much as his masters had) His angel keened, whimpered, and moaned his name, and the Djinn whispered words of love and praise into his skin, sending tongues of flame licking up and down his body. When Aziraphale came, it was with a cry of Crowley’s name that echoed through the flat. Crowley watched as Aziraphale came down from his carnal high, panting. “Oh, that was...rather lovely.”

Crowley laughed. “Rather lovely?”

Aziraphale ran his hand down Crowley’s spine. “Okay, it was fucking fantastic. Is that better?” The Djinn nodded, grinning. “Wicked Djinn.”

“Indeed, Master.”

Now they lay together, Aziraphale eagerly listing all the places he wanted to visit and the things he wanted to do, that they could now do thanks to his newly bestowed immortality. “Always thought about sailing around the world, you know? Getting a nice boat, just the two of us. Course, I can’t sail, but I can learn, and I am a rather good swimmer in case I fall overboard. Can you swim?”

“Yes, Master. I can swim. But you don’t have to worry about falling overboard. Nothing would happen to you.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips to Crowley’s neck. “I know that, silly. Still, it never hurts to be prepared. Oooh, mountain climbing! We could do that!” Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, and he laughed. “Okay, I’m kidding about the mountain climbing. Oh, museums! There’s so many museums I’ve always wanted to visit, and now I can, and galleries and restaurants! Oh, we could go to so many restaurants and...oh.” Aziraphale’s face fell, and Crowley stroked his cheek, concerned.

“Master? What..what’s wrong?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Here I am talking up all these places, and there’s no way I could afford any of that. Making me immortal didn’t suddenly make me a zillionaire, did it?”

Crowley shook his head, then beamed and began bouncing in excitement. “I make you rich! You wish!” Aziraphale frowned at him. “Honest rich. Make it seem like you always rich.”

“Promise?” The Djinn nodded rapidly. “I thought you couldn’t...since you’re free now..”

Crowley snorted. “Can always grant wishes, Master. But now can decide if I want to. I want to. Love you. Always grant your wishes.” He giggled, kissing Aziraphale. “Master wish, I grant! Always!”

“My love, are you aware that your speech becomes much less eloquent the more excited you are?”

Crowley giggled again. “Speech not important. English not first language. Djinn Speak first. Now wish.”

Aziraphale giggled at his wiggling, excited Djinn. “Djinn Speak?” Crowley rolled his eyes comically.

“I speak it to you, Master. But wish! Then Crowley speak Djinn to Angel.” Crowley whined, and Aziraphale laughed, taking pity on him.

“Then..I wish that I had enough money to do everything I’ve always dreamed of doing.”

“As My Master commands.” Crowley snapped his fingers, then beamed. “Rich now!” He kissed his angel again. “Not just happy, also when mad.”

“Hmm?”

Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s chest. “Also speak not eloquent when mad. Gabriel. Made me mad. Spoke not eloquent then. But now I speak my language to you. But need to do this first.” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley manifested two tiny sparks of flame. “Trust me?” The bookseller nodded, and Crowley placed his hands over his ears, sending the flame inside. “You understand Djinn Speak now! And speak it!”

“ _ **Aziraphale, my love.”**_

Aziraphale gasped. Crowley’s voice flowed into him, almost like living music, and he felt like he was floating. “ _ **Crowley...”**_

Crowley laughed in joy. _**“I feel you, my love! My angel! You are sunlight!”**_

“ _ **You...you feel like music, my Djinn. Like I’m surrounded by the most beautiful music, and...**_ _ **oh, Crowley, your voice, all of you, it’s fire and flame and love and...oohhh, I love you so much...”**_

“ _ **My Aziraphale, love you, always will love you.”**_


	11. The First Day of the Rest Of Their Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale face a future filled with promise.

Chapter Eleven: The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

“I do not understand, Ma..Aziraphale. Why do I need ‘clothing’? Is my robe not sufficient enough?” Crowley asked as he followed his master and lover down a street. Granted, the Djinn was just thrilled at being able to go anyplace he wanted now(his bottle had shattered into a million pieces when he had been set free) but he wasn’t sure why his robe, which he had always worn, would not suffice. After all, it was clean.

Aziraphale twined his fingers in Crowley’s, giving him a soft smile. “My love, you look dashing in it, but it would not be allowed in some places that I hope to visit. Besides,” he leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “I do so love the idea of you in a nice suit. Oh, how handsome you would look.”

Crowley smiled against his lips.”Then why not just wish? I can make a suit, Ma..Aziraphale. One that no mortal could rival.”

“I’m sure you could, my Djinn, but there is no point in me wishing for every little thing that arises.”

Crowley snorted. “’S what I’m here for, Angel. You wish, I grant. Right?” Aziraphale stroked his cheek, his eyes soft.

“Oh, my love. You are here because I love you, not so I can...” The bookseller sighed. “Crowley, you spent most of your existence enslaved and forced to grant horrible wishes. I can’t force you to continue, even if you are free. It wouldn’t...it wouldn’t be right.”

“I do not understand. Djinn grant wishes. And Master..ne...you’ve never wished for bad things.” Crowley said, looking rather distressed. “Why not wish?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Because I don’t want you to feel like you have to.” Crowley still looked upset. “And, also, because some things are more fun when they’re done the mundane way.”

“Like clothing?” Crowley said, tilting his head and smiling. Aziraphale laughed.

“Yes, my sweet, like clothing.” They continued down the street, Crowley eagerly drinking in the sights, then Aziraphale stopped in front of a building with a glass front and some writing on it. “Here we are, my love. A bespoke clothing shop. Just the thing for the distinguished gentleman, and well, since now I am by all accounts richer than Croesus, I thought maybe we could indulge. Err, speaking of...”

Crowley smiled, knowing what he was asking. “You have a card in your wallet.” Aziraphale flipped open his wallet, revealing a slim black card with his name on it. The Djinn smiled. “Will that work?”

“Yeah.”

“Can also have cash, if you need. Crowley good at granting wishes!” The Djinn said, bouncing on his heels. Aziraphale laughed.

“Crowley excellent at granting wishes.” He said, giving him a soft kiss. “Now, shall we go in?” The Djinn nodded, and Aziraphale opened the shop door.

They were immediately greeted by a smiling salesgirl with a name tag on her chest that read ‘Sandra’. “Hello and welcome to Tailor Made! What can I do for you gentlemen today?” She looked at Crowley, and surprise crossed her face. The Djinn looked down at the floor, rubbing at his wrists. Aziraphale gently placed his hands over Crowley’s, and addressed the shop girl.

“My...partner here recently lost everything in a fire, and I’m taking them to get some new clothes. Your shop came highly recommended, and I was also told that you do not...discriminate when it comes to clothing choices. I was thinking perhaps a few nice suits, some casual wear, and...maybe a few dresses?”

Sandra beamed. “I would be delighted to help!” She looked over at Crowley. “What are your preferred pronouns?” The Djinn blinked, then grinned.

“He. Right now.” Sandra nodded.

“Right this way, Mr..”

Crowley’s eyes widened. “Umm...Anthony! Name is Anthony. Crowley.” Sandra didn’t bat an eye.

“Right this way, Mr. Crowley, and I’ll get you measured. Mr...”

“Aziraphale Fell.”

“Mr. Fell, if you want to, you may look around and see if there’s anything to your liking. Or you can come with your partner and give your opinion.”

“Want Ma..Aziraphale to come with me. Nervous.” Aziraphale followed them into the back, and Sandra began to take Crowley’s measurements. “Sandra. Nice name.”

“Thank you. Anthony is a lovely name too. Are you named for anyone?”

Crowley shook his head. “Just like name. Met Anthony, once. In Padua. Saint.” Sandra laughed.

“Oh, like Saint Anthony.” Crowley started to nod, then frowned.

“Was not like saint. Was saint. Good man.”

Aziraphale smiled to himself. “I’m sure he was. Crowley, darling, do hold still so the nice girl can get accurate measurements.” Crowley obeyed, and Sandra quickly finished measuring him.

“Okay, so we’ve quite a few things that would suit you. Give me a moment and I’ll get them.” She left, returning a few moments later with her hands full of clothing. “I’ll go hang all these up in Dressing Room One, and you can try them on and see what you think would be best.”

Once she had left for the front of the shop, Crowley and Aziraphale stepped into the large dressing room. “Master, what should I wear?”

Aziraphale sorted through the suits, pulling out one that was a deep black with red accents. “Try this one first.” Crowley shed his robe, and Aziraphale gulped. “Ngg...umm...right, best find you some undergarments as well, if you’re going to...umm...keep that.”

“Do you not want me to?”

Aziraphale’s eyes darkened. “Oh, I most definitely want you to.” He licked his lips, then shook himself. “Control, Aziraphale. You do not need to blow your Djinn boyfriend in the dressing room of a clothing shop.” Crowley blinked, then smirked, and Aziraphale shrugged. “On the other hand...” He slid to his knees, and Crowley goggled at him.

“M...Master...”

Aziraphale looked up at him. “Be quiet for me?” Crowley nodded frantically. “Good.”

After that brief interlude(and Crowley made sure that nothing...landed on the clothes) they continued with trying on clothes, Aziraphale approving or rejecting outfits. In the end, they bought six suits(three formal and three casual, all in black) five dresses of varying length(and Aziraphale may or may not have gone into a haze of lust at the thought of Crowley wearing them) and a smattering of undergarments. Aziraphale gave Sandra his address and was promised delivery by Saturday next. They left the shop, Crowley dressed in a casual black suit. The Djinn walked a few feet in front of the bookseller, and Aziraphale’s eyes went wide.

“Crowley?” Good lord, his voice sounded like it needed oil. “Have your hips...always moved like that?” Oh Lord, it was downright sinful.

Crowley grinned, looking back at him. “Always. Just couldn’t tell with the robe. You...not like?”

“Oh, no. No. I VERY much like. Holy fuck, do I like.” Crowley grinned and did a little shimmy. “Christ, if you look that fucking hot in a suit, I cannot wait to see you in one of the dresses.” He grinned wickedly. “And maybe in some lingerie. Ooh, yes. Oh, and you need shoes.”

Crowley looked down at his feet. “Why?”

“Most places don’t let you in unless you’re wearing them.”

“Don’t like shoes.” Crowley frowned, then brightened. He lifted his foot, tracing it with a finger, and a black boot appeared. He did the same with the other foot. “There. Shoes.”

Aziraphale laughed so hard his sides hurt. “You clever creature.” Crowley beamed. “You know, it is getting a bit late, and I’m rather peckish. There’s a lovely restaurant down the road that I’m told has the most delicious oysters.”

“Never had an oyster.”

“Well, then let me tempt you, my love.”

After a very lovely lunch(Crowley did not care for the oysters, but did enjoy a filet of sole) they headed back to the shop. Aziraphale collapsed on the sofa, and Crowley sat in his lap. The bookseller ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you enjoy your first day of freedom, love?”

“Very much, Ma..Aziraphale. Keep forgetting I can call you that.” Crowley laid his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. Aziraphale stroked his spine. “Don’t be mad if I...forget?”

“Darling, I could never be mad at you. Now, would you like to go upstairs or stay down here?”

Crowley sighed. “Could we stay down here? I want you to read to me.”

Aziraphale grinned and picked up the book that was on the table in front of them. “Do you remember where we were, my sweet?”

Crowley shook his head. “Start again?”

Aziraphale kissed the top of his head. “With pleasure.” He flipped to the front and began reading, his voice low and smooth. _“Coraline discovered the door a little while after they moved into the house...”_

Crowley shut his eyes, a smile on his face. After a lifetime of loneliness, the Djinn was looking forward to a future with his angel.


End file.
